


Hard Liquor and Funny Hats

by Butterballs



Series: First Times [7]
Category: The Hobbit (2012) RPF, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, This is mostly banter and fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 06:46:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterballs/pseuds/Butterballs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aidan wants to put on a Christmas party for their friends before they break for the holidays and, of course, Dean can't possibly refuse him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard Liquor and Funny Hats

**Author's Note:**

> It’s at this point that the timeline gets very skewed. They spent about 18 months in NZ filming (right?) so there must have been a November/December involved somewhere, but I’m not 100% sure about that…and honestly it doesn’t matter. Onward!
> 
> (It has been pointed out, quite rightly, that the majority of the cast are actually vegetarian which did not occur to me while writing this. Durrr. Please ignore this little factoid while reading :P)

Dean never figured Aidan for the overly Christmassy sort, but the further they progress in their relationship, the more he learns. For example, in late November Aidan starts insisting that they erect a Christmas tree. Mainly so he can slip the word 'erect' into everyday conversation and then giggle about it for the next five minutes.

Dean resists at first. He tells Aidan that he doesn’t have enough space (that’s a lie), that perhaps they should put it up at Aidan’s house instead (no point, he’s never there), that they don’t have the time to go buy one and shop for ornaments (partial lie – Dean will make time to shop for booze, cigarettes, condoms and occasionally food, but hell if he’s going to stand in line for half an hour with fifty other people at Kmart in order to purchase a fucking plastic star to put on the top of a blasted fake pine tree) – and finally, when Aidan _really_ pushes him, he admits that he just can’t be arsed.

Aidan shows up at his door with a six-foot-two plastic monstrosity the very next day. 

‘Really?’ Dean wonders aloud upon opening his door, eyeing the picture on the box from where he stands. ‘You really just went and…’

Aidan grins that confoundedly persuasive sunshine-and-daisies smile of his. ‘Yeah, and it’s heavy as fuck, let me in.’ He shoulders past Dean, dragging the box across the tiled floor. ‘Where are we gonna put it, then?’

Dean considers, only for half a second, refusing to put it up at all, but Aidan looks so terribly enthusiastic that his resolve crumbles. ‘Over there, I guess. In the corner by the TV. Do you have any - ’

‘Decorations, yeah. They’re in the car. I bought some, and your mum gave me some that she wasn’t using.’

Dean stares at him. ‘When…?’

‘I actually ran into her in the shop. She wondered where you were. I said you were being grinchy and she seemed to understand.’ Aidan bats his eyelashes theatrically and kisses Dean’s partly open mouth swiftly before he can say anything more. ‘Start putting it up. I need to grab the decorations.’

Dean has the first three parts of the tree assembled before he realises how he simply acquiesced to Aidan without even thinking.

'You didn't put up much of a fight,' Aidan notes as if reading his mind, returning from the car with the bag of decorations.

'I've got this feeling that God himself couldn't stop this tree going up,' Dean mutters, wedging the fourth section of the tree in place. 'That said, it does make the house look a bit more festive. You were right. Don't let it go to your head.'

Aidan smiles innocently. 'Wouldn't dream of it. Put the last two bits in and then we can decorate.' He then dumps the contents of the bag over Dean's lounge room floor. An assortment of silver, gold, red and blue balls in various sizes bounce and scatter under the couch.

'Wouldn't it have been easier to take them out of the bag one by one?' Dean asks, not bothering to turn around. He can practically feel Aidan's answering shrug. After securing the sixth and final part of the tree - with minor difficulty, considering the tree is taller than Aidan - he faces his boyfriend, gestures as if to say 'well go on, then,' selects a red bauble from the floor and hangs it midway up the tree without a second thought. 

'What are you doing?!' Aidan shrieks, pulling Dean out of arm's reach of the tree. 'We need to plan this first!'

' _Plan_? We're decorating a Christmas tree, Aidan, not staging a hostile takeover.'

'We need to decide where each bauble is going to go so there's an equal balance of the colours!'

Dean laughs. 'Are you serious?'

The tips of Aidan's ears turn pink. 'That's...that's how we always did it at home. You couldn't have two silver baubles too close together, red had to alternate with green, that sort of thing. How did your family do it?'

'Chucked everything on wherever we liked as soon as we were able to walk,' Dean says, smiling fondly at the memory. 'Mum took a photo of the tree each year until I moved out. The decorations get progressively higher as we get taller. I'll thank you to refrain from the short jokes.'

'You're not short,' Aidan says, winding an arm around Dean's waist and pulling their bodies together. 'I never make short jokes at your expense.'

Dean squirms out of Aidan's grasp. 'Pass the balls, Turner. Our tree is naked.'

Aidan rolls a blue one across the floor to him. He then snorts and is overcome with a sudden fit of giggles so severe he has to sit down. Dean catches the bauble and positions it, shaking his head. 'What's wrong with you?'

'I'm giving you blue balls!' Aidan gasps out, still giggling uncontrollably.

Dean snorts. 'Really, Aidan?'

Fifteen minutes later the tree is completely decorated bar the star on the top. 'I'm gonna put the star on,' Aidan declares, grabbing it and reaching for the top of the tree. Dean smacks his hand away.

'Fuck off, I am!'

'It's my tree!'

'It's my _house_!'

'You can't even reach!'

'Low blow, Aidan. What was it you were saying earlier about not making short jokes?'

'Sorry,' Aidan says, managing to look contrite. 'But c'mon, I really want to - '

'As do I,' Dean shoots back, trying and failing to snatch the offending item out of Aidan's hand. Aidan holds it over his head in retaliation. 'Oh come on, that's not fair!'

Aidan begins to back away slowly. 'I'm going to put this,' he gestures at the tree, 'Over there. And you can't stop me.'

Dean's eyebrows raise. 'That sounds like a challenge.'

'Oh please, I've got at least four inches on you, you've got no chance of - ' Aidan shuts up abruptly as Dean steps well into his personal space suggestively, his devious smirk highlighting those wicked dimples, and kisses the side of Aidan's neck along that sensitive strip of muscle. It's one of the locations on Aidan's body that Dean can kiss to arouse him instantly, and Aidan knows that Dean knows, the prick. Dean’s kisses trail up to Aidan’s earlobe and he stops there, breathing heavily, before he bites down.

‘Now who’s not being fair,’ Aidan moans, both hands dropping to encircle Dean’s waist. The star falls to the floor, forgotten.

‘I’m very persuasive,’ Dean murmurs directly into his ear, grinding their crotches together and making Aidan bite his lip.

Somehow the tree doesn’t end up finished that afternoon.

***

The following day Aidan has another proposal for Dean. ‘Christmas dinner,’ is the first thing he says upon waking.

Dean yawns. ‘Purple monkey dishwasher.’

‘What?’

‘I thought we were blurting out things that don’t make sense.’

Aidan flicks him. ‘Stop being obtuse. Why don’t we put on a Christmas dinner for the lads before we break for the holiday with our families? Might be a nice send-off, you know.’ 

The thing is, Aidan’s _not_ breaking for the holidays – he’s still not really talking to his parents, or they aren’t speaking to him, or both (even since his brief visit back home months before), so he’s staying in New Zealand with Dean – and the implication tugs on Dean’s heartstrings, to be dramatic about it. He sighs. ‘And what would that involve?’

‘Not much, really,’ Aidan muses. ‘We provide the turkey, the premises and the grog. We ask the others to bring salads and pies and forks and shit.’

‘We are not providing the grog. All our friends are alcoholics. Even Richard, although he’s kind of a refined, well-behaved, gentlemanly alcoholic.’

Aidan waves a hand dismissively. ‘Fine, not the grog. Maybe we can roast some potatoes or something. It’ll be fun.’

Dean ponders the idea, his fuzzy half-awake brain mulling over the concept. 'Sure, it'll be fun,' he agrees, without too much thought. 'It's a good excuse to get pissed and eat a bunch of food, at least. But there'll have to be turkey.’

'Obviously!' Aidan chirps excitedly. 'I'll send out a text today. And thank you,' he adds, his tone softer this time, and without giving a more detailed explanation. Dean pats his arm.

'You could just...try to call them,' he carefully suggests. 'I'm sure they're finding it just as hard as you. Er - I mean - ' Dean falters at Aidan's hurt frown. 'I mean, they're probably ashamed of their behaviour and aren't sure how to apologise to you.'

'"Sorry" would be a good start,' Aidan says curtly. 'And anyway, I doubt it. They probably just haven't found the right priest to arrange my exorcism.'

'I think you're exaggerating.'

'Yeah, well, you don't know them. Nor do you probably want to. Get up and shower, Dean. You smell.'

That's what Aidan usually does when Dean tries to talk about his parents, changes the subject so fast that Dean feels like he has whiplash from trying to keep up. 'I do not!'

'Shower, O'Gorman, pronto.' Aidan extends one long leg and, pressing it again Dean's rump, pushes him across the bed until he's perched on the edge. 'Because I'm such a kind, generous human being, I'll come along with you.'

'Aidan, we've had this discussion, it sends the water bill through the r- oh fuck you,' Dean groans as Aidan sneaks up behind him and presses his hard cock against the cleft of Dean's ass.

'I think it's gonna be the other way around,' Aidan says against Deans' neck, and Dean shudders. That's the other thing Aidan does when Dean tries to talk about something difficult, he uses his smile and his accent and his body as weapons of mass distraction. Not much has changed since their first kiss all those months ago, and to be honest, Dean doesn't really want anything to. He slides off the bed and follows Aidan to the shower without further comment.

***

'How many turkeys d'you think we'll need for fifteen people?'

Dean looks up from the coffee he's making. 'I dunno. Maybe three?'

'I'll buy four, in in case we fuck one up,' Aidan says thoughtfully and scribbles something on a small notepad. It's the morning of the party and he has been assigned the job of making sure there's enough of the main dish to go around, plus plastic cups and plates, and drinks for himself and Dean. Aidan protested about having disposable crockery at first but quickly shut up when Dean pointedly asked him if he planned on doing the washing up hung over. 

'You'll have to get those smaller turkey rolls.'

Aidan pouts. 'It's not the same.'

'You wouldn't get _one_ fully grown turkey in my oven, Aidan. And they take friggin' ages to roast. I'm still not sure how you plan to cook four of them at once.' Dean's also not sure how fifteen grown men are going to fit into the communal areas of his house, let alone seating everybody - he hopes some of them don't mind eating standing up - but he doesn't make note of this to Aidan. It'll only dampen his spirits. 'Is your list just about done?'

'Yup. Turkey, turkey, turkey, turkey, cups, plates, knives, forks, and a fuck-ton of assorted liquor.' Aidan grins. 

'How about Christmas crackers?'

'Oh my God, _yes_.' Aidan scrawls it down. 'And maybe some bread rolls. Right, now I think we're set. Shall we?' 

The trip to the supermarket is blessedly brief and they return home with everything on Aidan’s list and then some – Aidan insists on stocking up on mince pies (‘Do you know a single person who actually likes mince pies, Aidan?’ ‘Yes, me. Shut up and push the trolley,’), a Christmas pudding “just in case” (‘Just in case of what? Nuclear friggin’ war?’) and enough of a range of alcohol to ensure that, if somebody drops a wayward cigarette butt in the wrong place at the right time, the whole place is going up in flames. And as soon as everything is unpacked there’s an argument about when to put the turkey on.

‘We can’t put it on now!’ Aidan complains. ‘It’ll go all dry and horrible. Can’t it wait a bit, until closer to the time when the lads are arriving?’

Dean sighs. ‘No, because if we do that, there will _be_ no turkey. Trust me. We have to start roasting the rolls now. I know they look small, but four of them in oven at once – and no, we can’t do one at a time!’

Aidan closes his mouth, clearly on the verge of protesting. ‘Fine, but if it’s shit, I’m telling everyone that it’s your fault.’ 

‘Are we arguing about all this too much?’ Dean asks suddenly. ‘Like…is this normal?’

Aidan snickers. ‘Hell, yes, if you don’t argue over Christmas dinner you’re probably doing it wrong. And then somebody will bring up an old grievance after they’ve drunk too much, and they’ll get angry and inappropriate and offend someone else just in time for dessert, and they’ll storm out after all the pie’s gone. Then you won’t see them until next Christmas.’

‘Fond memories, I see.’

‘You have no idea.’

Dean wins that argument and the turkey goes on within the next few minutes (at a slightly lower than recommended temperature, at Aidan’s insistence). There’s nothing left for the two of them to do but sit on the couch and wait.

‘I hope everyone has a good time,’ Aidan says quietly. He’s trying to smile and appear unaffected but his eyes are focused at some point across the room, unblinking.

‘Have we ever _not_ had a good night out together?’ Dean asks, not expecting an answer because the answer is obvious. They’re all like family now and yet no-one will be there who doesn’t want to be, no-one has been invited so as not to offend someone else. ‘All the closeness of family with none of the drama.’

‘Yeah,’ Aidan agrees with a warm smile. ‘You’re right. I’m worryin’ for nothing. How much time have we got until they’re here?’

‘About half an hour, I think, why?’

Aidan’s reply is to reach across and palm Dean’s cock through his jeans, no how-about-it or suggestive leer to precede what’s to come, just dirty and straight to the point. Dean is mentally calculating how fast they can be when there’s a knock at the door.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ Aidan grumbles, withdrawing his hand. 

‘It’s Adam,’ their visitor calls through the door. ‘I’m sorry I’m a bit early, I think everyone else is coming together, I just wanted to see if you needed any help setting up.’

Dean opens the door and hugs him. ‘Bless you, Adam, but no, we’re all done. Come in and have a drink.’

‘What did you bring?’ Aidan pipes up, rising from the couch to hug Adam once Dean has released him. ‘Pop a cracker, put a hat on.’

There’s another knock at the door. ‘Jesus, everyone’s early,’ Dean comments, opening the door to Graham and Richard, who have come bearing an enormous apple pie. ‘Hello, gentlemen.’

Richard’s civil ‘Hi, Dean,’ is overshadowed by Graham’s good-natured shout of ‘Scotch, Turner, tout de suite!’ Richard smiles apologetically. ‘I believe he’s got a bit of a head start on the aforementioned scotch.’

‘Fair enough. Good to see you, Rich. Adam’s already inside with a drink and a stupid paper hat, hopefully. I’ll be there in a min – ‘ Someone’s banging on the door, again, and Dean finally realises what his terribly clever co-stars are doing. ‘It’s not quite so hilarious if I know that you’re coming!’ he yells, flinging the door open to the other ten guests, James leading the pack and Ian bringing up the rear, trying to pretend that he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on.

‘Aren’t we funny,’ James says with a bow, offering a potato salad to Dean and pushing past him. ‘Wasn’t even my idea, it was Stephen’s. Oh, grand, we’re already into the hard liquor and funny hats.’

‘Nice tree,’ Jed observes once the remaining ten of them are inside. Dean’s cozy little house has become a lot cozier all of a sudden. ‘Why isn’t there a star or an angel or something on top of it?’

‘Must’ve forgotten to put it on,’ Aidan replies, smirking and exchanging a look with Dean. ‘Pull up a pew wherever you can, lads, and get comfy, there’s turkey coming. Along with whatever you lot have brought.’

‘Sticky date pudding,’ Luke says, presenting the sweet to Aidan, who kisses him loudly on the cheek and declares him the best man in the universe. (‘Steady on,’ mutters Dean, who’s peering worriedly at the turkey and prodding at it every so often with a skewer.)

At that point Dean realises just _how_ much food they have. Some of the guys have gone halves or thirds in a dish (which was the smart thing to do, and which Aidan probably should have mentioned in his invitation) but there are still about seven side dishes (counting Adam’s roast vegetables, shoved unceremoniously in the bottom of the oven) and two desserts. Possibly too much, but better than the alternative, he reasons. 

It _is_ a fantastic night. The turkey is a bit dry but more than edible (and helped along considerably by the cranberry sauce that Adam brought, God bless his eternal preparedness), the salads and bread are plentiful, the desserts are nothing short of spectacular (apparently Graham baked the pie himself and threatens to shank anyone who insinuates otherwise) and the liquor never seems to end. Adam’s roast vegetables don’t do so well relegated to the bottom of the oven and shrivel up into hard mounds, instead finding their calling as currency in an impromptu poker game. Not everyone stays the night – space restrictions make it impossible – so Dean ends up with only Graham, Richard (lying on the sofa entwined together in a decidedly non-platonic fashion, although that’s probably the booze talking), James, Adam, Luke and – to everyone’s surprise – Ian. Ian has drunk the least of all fifteen of them but once he makes an offer to round up coffee, paracetamol and bacon butties in the morning (likely afternoon, really, since it’s four before they retire to bed), Dean refuses to let him leave. 

The most important thing that Dean notices is that Aidan’s smile never falters, his laughter never ceases, his light never goes out. It can’t make up for having his parents unhappy with him at such a festive time of the year but it’s more than a decent alternative. 

‘I wish I was dead,’ Aidan groans, head in his hands when he wakes up at midday. ‘Whose idea were the tequila shots?’

‘Mine,’ James grunts. ‘And believe me, I’m payin’ for it too. God, what’s that amazing smell?’

‘Ian’s cooking breakfast,’ Graham says without opening his eyes. ‘If you’re getting up, feel free to pass a bacon sandwich down here.’

‘I’m not moving. You get me one.’

‘For Christ’s sake, will you both shut up,’ Richard says, one arm obscuring his eyes. ‘I said I’d just drink wine, I always swear not to mix my liquor – ‘

‘- and you always fail,’ James finishes for him. 

‘Please stop talking.’

‘Breakfast!’ Ian chirps from the kitchen, deliberately louder than he needs to be. ‘Lovely afternoon, don’t you think?’ 

‘Mmmmrrr,’ is the collective reply from the living room.

Aidan and Dean haul their carcasses into the kitchen and plop down on the stools at the breakfast bar, at which point Ian presents them with their delightful piles of grease.

‘You’re a good man,’ Dean says gratefully around a mouthful of bacon. ‘I can see why they knighted you.’

Aidan doesn’t even try to speak, so busy is he scarfing down his sandwich and four paracetamol. He’s midway through a liter of water and a declaration that he’s going to bed for another twelve hours when his phone rings and, frowning at it, he disappears outside.

‘Must be important if he’s willing to risk natural light this early,’ James says, wandering in for his own bacon sandwich. Dean is perturbed, though, because Aidan _never_ takes his calls in another room. 

He returns ten minutes later looking an unsavoury shade of pale green. ‘What’s the matter?’ Dean asks, immediately alarmed by his boyfriend’s appearance.

‘I have to go and pick my mum and dad up,’ Aidan explains, his mouth over-forming the words as if they don’t make sense to him. 

Dean doesn’t understand. ‘From Ireland?’ he asks, dumbfounded. 

‘From the airport. Here.’

‘What, _now_?’

‘Yes. They’ve asked if you can come along, too.’ Aidan is a particularly fetching shade of pale green and appears on the verge of tears. ‘You don’t have to, but – ‘

There’s no question, of course. At this point Dean’s sure he’d follow Aidan to the ends of the earth and back if he asked, and right now Aidan is in dire need for someone - Dean, especially – to have his back. Dean throws three painkillers into his mouth, washes them down with the rest of his coffee and takes a deep breath. ‘All right. Shower, dress yourself, let’s go.’

It’s not the magnificent, long-winded motivational speech that he’s secretly been planning for this moment but nevertheless it’s what Aidan needs to hear, because the blinding love and appreciation on his face is something Dean will never forget. And surely _nothing_ the future has to offer can be worse than a surprise visit from Aidan’s homophobic parents while monstrously hung over.


End file.
